I went back and forth about whether or not I liked this book. I liked it sometimes, when the stories were longer and more involved, when they went more into the time and place of the story. Some of the chapters/stories were only a page or so long, and to solve a mystery so quickly feels like it was either not much of a mystery, or it wasn't worth telling since there's no detail. But the longer stories allowed Chesterton's talent to shine through. His mastery of words really shows up in the longer passages, as does his understanding of politics. The journalist character was much more compelling to me than the man who knew too much. He just seemed too smug, and cynical. It's hard to like a character that knows everything. Unlike Hercule Poirot, another character that seems to know everything, Fisher is not developed as a likable character. He is meant to be nebulous, a specter that you never really understand or get a hold on, and I'm sure it's some sort of metaphor, but for what? I don't know that it's worth knowing, either.

I felt blase about the entire book, and in the middle, I thought about not even coming back to it. I left this one to read two others, and it was a chore to return. But still, I waver between two and three stars because the parts that were good were really good, and absolutely worth it. It just seems that there are a few stories that could have been omitted to make it a better book. Also, I think I would have liked it even better had Chesterton taken the longer stories and made them novella length, omitting the others.